


Ditto

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dimension Travel, F/M, Female Tony Stark, Fluff and Smut, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Self-cest, They get it, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, so does Antonia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Tony Stark ended up in another universe, the last thing he expected was to crash-land practically on top of another version of himself. After that, expectations readjusted, he really couldn’t say he didn’t see falling into bed with her coming. The feelings, however, were another matter entirely.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 145
Collections: Anonymous





	Ditto

She’s different than he’d expected. The same, of course — almost eerily so like himself — but different than what he’d thought she would be. If he’d ever paused to think about what an alternate female version of himself might look like, of course. And he had, because he was Tony Stark and that was just how his mind wandered, drifting through impossibilities whenever not busy working on his newest project. Some times at the same time as he was working because he was awesome at multitasking like that.

But no, he hadn’t considered that she might be just so incredibly similar to himself. It was probably the boobs, if he’d care to analyze where he’d diverted from the common ground in his imaginings. Not that having boobs would’ve made him into a different person but — it might. He thought it could, actually. Had often wondered if he’d been born a girl if Howard would’ve treated him a bit better, if he wouldn’t have been so harsh. Preconceived notions and outdated stereotypes, of course, and yet that was people for you so he’d thought they would’ve acted accordingly.

Maybe they had. He doesn’t know, hasn’t asked her about the details, but he knows enough.

Howard was still a dick. Maybe even a bigger dick because he apparently didn’t expect as much from her as he’d expected from him. Because he was a misogynistic dick, obviously. Their mom hadn’t been much better at making home life any nicer, though from the fondness in her voice, the softening in her eyes, he gathers that she’d tried.

Everyone else was even harsher on her than they’d been on him. Playboy versus slut, irreverent versus untamable, boy genius versus know-it-all. Pretty stereotypical; society is boring like that.

So maybe, if he’d actually considered all of that before, he would have allowed for the possibility that she might just be just so very like him.

He didn’t, however, and so meeting her was a bit of a surprise. An incredibly pleasant surprise.

* * *

Antonia’s world is unbelievably similar to his own, with only a few minor differences. There’s no Anthony, to start with, but a woman with the same eyes, same hair, same skin tone. It’s not quite like looking at a twin version of himself, not even like someone put his photo through a gender swap app.

Antonia is similar, yeah, in all the ways that identify her as a Stark and Carbonell child, but there are enough differences that it doesn’t make it too weird to look at her.

She’s smaller, to start with. Petite, almost, which she seems to have a problem with if her narrowing eyes and sharp tongue are anything to go by. Tony thinks it’s cute. There’s the boobs, obviously, but her face is also more angular, cheekbones sharper, lips fuller. Stunning, really.

Is that egotistical to say? Probably. Tony’s been accused of worse.

The rest of the Avengers are the same except for Thor — another woman. Same name, though, so he figures Asgardians dig the whole unisex theme.

Rhodey wasn’t Antonia’s roommate, obviously, although they became just as close in the first few weeks of classes. Pepper was still her PA and then CEO, but not her girlfriend.

“She’s very straight, unfortunately,” Antonia had told him with a quirk of her lips. It hadn’t quite hidden the slight wistfulness there, which only became more visible when Tony told her about their own relationship. “At least one of us got the girl, right?” she’d added, only a tinge of sadness seeping through.

In this world, Antonia had had _something_ with Steve. She doesn’t say much, and everyone is remarkably tight-lipped about it, but from what he gathers it resulted in the Civil War on steroids, with broken hearts scrambled in between. A mess, she’d said later, regret lacing her every syllable. Tony’s imagination is probably not good enough to capture the full of it but he thinks he gets the gist.

The woman he meets, then, is a much more jaded and world-weary version of himself than he’d been expecting. Almost to the point that he doesn’t see her as a version of himself but her own individual person.

* * *

“There’s no way back,” this version of Strange tells them. He’s the same douchebag Tony has come to know and call a reluctant friend and ally in his own world — which doesn’t make Tony hate him any less when he gets the harsh truth coldly delivered.

He’d known — with that crushing certainty that someone just knows they’re gonna crash, that their fall will result in a broken wrist, that the glass will tip and spill wine all over the white couch. He’d crash-landed into this universe, groggy and motion sick and so utterly confused, and it hadn’t taken him more than a few hours to know that there was no way back.

And still, stupidly, foolishly, he’d had hope that there would.

Well. Tony has always been a survivor, he’ll make it here in this new world. Somehow.

* * *

It’s natural, he thinks. She’s familiar — family, even, in a totally weird way — more so than anyone else. The rest of the world knows only Antonia Stark, but she knows _him_. They’re the same, they’re not the same. They’re one, they’re the complete opposite. It’s maddening and fascinating and he is never once bored when he’s with her.

And he’s with her a lot. Living together will do that to people.

It was almost another one of those knowing how things would end as he watched it happen in slow motion. Distantly, almost faintly enough that he could pretend to ignore it, to never even think about it in the first place, but he’d never been able to fool himself completely.

And she’s the same. Tony sees it, there’s no hiding from each other, not with anything, definitely not with this.

It’s lingering eyes, considering with an intensity that borders on invasive. It’s more and more time spent together, almost as if there’s a magnet on both their arc reactors that pulls them close at any and all times. Sometimes Tony finds himself hovering in her periphery, drifting through the house aimlessly, restlessly, unsure what to do to settle the erratic thoughts in his head until he runs into her and then it’s… silence. Peace. Finally.

And she’s the same. She’s fidgeting, hands drumming on her thighs, legs bouncing up and down, pacing down the living room when the lab gets too stifling, and then he’ll walk in and she… relaxes. Instantly. Tension lifts off her shoulders as if an invisible force just carried it out, her face smoothes, lines no longer pronounced, her eyes soften, a small smile — one that’s just for him — always graces her lips when she sees him.

Inevitable, his mind supplies, over and over again. Simply inevitable.

* * *

“This is…”

“Crazy?”

“Yeah.”

“The craziest thing we’ve ever done?”

“Without a doubt.”

“At least mildly narcissistic?”

“More than, I’d say.”

She shrugs carelessly. “You’re hot, I’m hot, we’re both awesome.”

He kisses her brow, watches as she blinks away the surprise at the tenderness of the gesture. He wants to hurt someone, then. A lot of someones, actually. His life was utter shit when it came to romance and feeling loved but then he’d had Pepper and she’d shown him. One would think Steve would’ve been better—

Anyway. The guy doesn’t deserve thinking about any longer, Tony decides.

“You’re amazing,” he says, holding her gaze and hoping that she learns to accept his words as truth, one day. God knows it took him close to a decade himself but, he’s pretty sure she’s better than him at everything.

Her face does a particular thing where it threatens to blush before she tames it and purses her lips in determination. Then Tony is forcefully flipped over and used in all kinds of delicious and devious ways where he doesn’t need words to say what he likes or wants because she _knows_.

* * *

It’s probably more than just a bit narcissistic. Actually, Tony is quite sure that there’s a whole list of diagnosis a half-decent psych major can stick them with — but he doesn’t care. She doesn’t either, obviously.

It’s almost ridiculously natural how the whole thing comes together. A lingering look that lasted one second longer than the usual ones, a touch that stayed for just a beat too long to be considered casual flirting, and then he’s got his hand on the small of her back and she has her hand on the nape of his neck — simultaneous, always in sync, beating to the same rhythm — and then they’re kissing.

It could be weird, the actual kissing, and yet it is the furthest thing from it. He knows what he likes, and so does she, and so their mouths fit together in a way that very rarely happens. He pushes and pulls and she pulls and pushes and they both get lost in a game that is so exhilarating it’s no wonder they end up in bed a few minutes later, clothes coming off without a single care about the litany of scars covering their bodies.

They’re the same, they match, even there.

* * *

Tony doesn’t think he’s ever had this.

Fiery passion one minute, slow seduction the next, then right back to devouring each other in every way possible. It’s perfectly maddening — the physical manifestation of their relationship.

Antonia flattens him onto the bed, predatory smirk in place, nails running down from his neck to his thighs. Her eyes flicker from his face to his torso to his groin. Her tongue slips out to wet her lips, pink and sinful.

Tony doesn’t feel one ounce of embarrassment about his scars — not with her.

Tony has a circular scar right in the middle of his sternum, and so does she. Tony lifts his fingers up, traces the pattern on the raised skin in between her breasts. He’s breathless when he looks at her, catches her gaze on him, perfectly _comfortable_.

They’re the same. Almost down to every single scar, every single birthmark.

Antonia takes hold of his cock, hand firm and sure, and then positions herself on top of him and slides down in one slow motion, eyes never leaving Tony’s.

Tony’s mouth parts instinctively. She grins. Predatory and pleased and full of promises. When she starts to move, hips undulating faster and faster, Tony is ready to worship at her altar.

When she leans down to kiss him, slow and soft and tender, Tony thinks he will give her the universe.

He flips them over, takes her in his arms, cradles her body — protective, almost, because that’s what she is to him, utterly precious. She matches his new, slow rhythm, drags her nails firmly up his back, wraps her thighs around his waist, kisses him again and again.

Then her hips start driving up faster, meeting his with increased demand. Her hands tighten on his flesh, grabbing everything she can. Her breath comes out in short gasps, with moans of pleasure in between. She bites her lower lip, looks at him with eyes that are so much more than just lustful, and Tony nearly loses it right there.

There’s a whole world of promises in her gaze, and Tony leans back down, kisses her for all he’s got, licks her tongue, teases her lips, sucks and nibbles and bites.

Antonia flips them over again, pulls Tony up so he’s sitting and she’s sitting on him, chest to chest. Tony takes one of her breasts in hand, thumbs over the nipple while he mouths at the other one. She keens, panting, hips going up and down and in circles with moves which feel less and less coordinated.

Tony bites her neck, sucks a bruise he’s sure will be there for days. His hand reaches between them, touches her clit, and she moans, loud. Tony watches her — grabbing onto his back as if he’s everything keeping her from floating away, nails digging in pleasurably painfully, eyes meeting his with a kind of satisfaction that has very little to do with the physical.

Tony holds her waist firmly with one hand, the other occupied with her clit, categorizing every reaction until he finds the movements that make her lose control, make her lips part, eyes glaze, tongue peek out to lick at her lips. Tony keeps at it, even when her hips start driving up and down faster and faster, when she leans down for a kiss that’s more bite than anything, when she pulls on his hair and gasps in his ear.

Her walls contract around his cock without synchrony, but it matches almost to perfection the erratic movement of her hips. Tony moans, sure now that he really won’t last very long at all.

Antonia bites his ear, hard, says, “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

Tony does. He comes inside her in hot waves, feeling as if his body is trying its very best to fuse itself to hers, to become one, finally. He moans and gasps and grunts and keeps stroking her clit, determined to make her come undone just as she’d completely undone him.

She does. She gasps, almost soundlessly, head falling back, full lips parted, eyes falling shut. Her whole body spasms and her walls contract so tightly around Tony’s dick that he nearly comes a second time.

She’s stunning. Just… Unbelievably so.

Tony tells her. Leans forward, rests his forehead on her cheek, pants into her collarbone, holds her close to him and never wants to let go.

Antonia chuckles softly, out of breath and slightly hoarse, and lays a gentle hand on his cheek.

“You’re incredible,” she says, and the way she tilts his chin up so she’ll look at him makes him realize she’d not meant just the sex at all.

Tony kisses her, for lack of a better use for his mouth.

* * *

The sex is not the surprise. In fact, Tony has spent many an all-night lab bender distractedly thinking up scenarios where he would end up fucking himself.

Is that weird? Probably. Antonia says she does the same, so Tony is certainly not alone in this.

It was almost obvious, actually, that they’d end up in bed eventually, if only because they’re both too curious for their own good and when the opportunity presents itself they’d be fools to let it slip between their fingers. And Tony Stark is no fool. Neither is Antonia Stark, for that matter.

The less obvious part, the one that neither of them seems to have expected, was the feelings — a lie, maybe, because he’d been watching it like a two-tier truck about to tip over the ravine for a while, hadn’t he? But distantly, with enough blinds over his eyes that he could try to convince himself it wasn’t happening.

Stupid, right? Cliché, almost.

Antonia certainly seems to think so and Tony is, naturally, of the same opinion. No version of Tony Stark falls for someone they’re having casual sex with. He’s no amateur. There is such a thing as sex with no strings attached — playboy, slut, they’d called them, and what had they done? Took those monikers and made them their own. Earned them, used them, flaunted them.

The world could go fuck itself before either of them gave a shit what other people thought about their sexual habits. Man, woman, it doesn’t matter. It seems that every version of himself is bisexual and damn proud of it, and if that only fuels the hatred about their sexual partners and their apparent inability to be faithful because of it, then it wasn’t their problem.

Then there’d been Pepper — for both of them, though only he’d gotten a relationship out of that — and Steve for her — Tony can see the appeal, he’ll give her that, but at the time he’d already been with Pepper and Steve had only ever managed to be a friend whenever he wasn’t actively trying to grate on his nerves. They’d been the only ones to make a lasting impression, to make them make an effort into not just sleeping with them, because they were worth more.

This, however? Tony was expecting the casual sex — a lot of it and in all kinds of places — and he’d certainly gotten that. He’d not expected any of the other things.

* * *

“It’s our shitty self-esteem,” Antonia says, tone mockingly wise which nonetheless carves the truth out of both their hearts.

Tony scoffs, purposefully nonchalant. “Please. I don’t have a single atom in my body that’s not aware of just how awesome I am.”

She huffs out a laugh onto his chest, curls her fingers into his chest hair in absentminded patterns. Her breath comes out in warm puffs, lips brushing against his skin. It sends shivers running through him, getting tangled with the way her body is warm against his, the contrast bone-meltingly delicious.

“I think our atoms are more than capable of holding contrasting ideas in their own little nuclei.”

Tony has to give her that, naturally. “Definitely our shitty self-esteem, yup. Who broke us?”

She chuckles again, warm and dripping with fondness, and then tilts her head up so that her chin is resting just to the side of his sternum — it still hurts, the bone, she knows it better than anyone.

“Is your memory starting to go, old man? Do I need to get FRIDAY to compile a list of things so you don’t forget?”

Tony feels his lips curling against his will, although in retrospect there’s no way he could resist her when her eyes are shining with mirth and her mouth is sinfully plum.

“Call it selective amnesia. Some things could do with being forgotten.”

Her face softens, then, no doubt catching the sudden seriousness he’s let slip. She raises her hand up to his cheek, calloused fingers ghosting his smooth skin, then tracing over his meticulously styled goatee.

“Of course you have awesome facial hair,” she’d said when they met. “I always imagined I’d have the coolest beard if I’d been born a dude.”

Now she says, “We deserve this, though. Don’t we?”

It’s almost too low for him to hear, her lips barely moving. There’s a hesitance, a fear of hearing that it might not be true which makes Tony’s heart clench in his chest in mirrored sympathy.

_Same_ , his soul whispers. One.

“We do,” he says, finding some vestige of certainty he’s not sure where. Or he does, really, but sometimes it’s too painful to think of what he’s lost, too sorrowful to hear Pepper’s voice in his mind. But he can take her words, take her surety, give it to someone else. “We deserve to be happy, Ant.”

The look she gives him is one full of hope and grief both. For him, he thinks. For both of them.

“You still miss her,” she’d said. Not asked, there was no doubt it was true. Tony had never hid anything from her, of course, and so he’d told her what he’d left behind — _whom_ he’d left behind. “It’s okay, you know? It’s okay to miss her, and it’s okay to love her.”

“And what if I love you too?”

She’d shrugged, perfectly nonchalant — and meaning it. “That’s okay too. I never stopped loving my Pepper, even when I knew it would never be reciprocated.”

Funny, he thinks, how they’re both so sure that the other deserves to be happy and loved but when it comes to themselves there’s always that lingering doubt. Their shitty self-esteem, Antonia had said, summing it up perfectly.

She kisses him now, slow and soft and full of words that don’t need to be said out loud. She knows they both like — _need_ — to hear them, though, and so she pulls back, gives him a small smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You do make me happy, Tony.”

“Ditto.”

* * *

Tony shows up in this parallel universe because of some bullshit with the infinity stones and trying to stop Thanos before he killed half the universe.

Strange’s brilliant plan — heavy sarcasm doubly implied — was to use the Time stone to freeze time, therefore allowing them just enough time to take the rest of the stones from Thanos and then kick his ass. Granted, it was a half-assed plan concocted in the spur of the moment in between Strange flicking like some badly tuned tv channel and declaring only one possibility where they won.

The problem, as always, was that the plan had worked until it didn’t. Tony had only managed to get the Space stone out because the damned things burned like hell, and then time was up and Thanos was moving again. In a split second, Strange had thrown Tony the Time stone when Thanos lurched towards him, and then Tony had, stupidly, wished to be anywhere but there.

And he was.

The stones, however, had not made the trip with him. Fuckers.

On the bright side, he’d ended up exactly next to Antonia and both of them _had_ managed to get the stones from Thanos in this version of Strange’s crazy plan, and they had actually won.

Tony is still bitter about the loss of his universe — possibly quite the literal loss — and most days he struggles to come up with a reason to get out of bed when he has memories that stubbornly stick to his dreams, faces he sees every day but will never be _his_ people.

Then he wakes up, finds familiar brown eyes looking at him with such soul-deep understanding that it eases the pain enough to make him able to breathe. Just a bit, a little every day, and then there are suddenly days where he can look at people and not see a juxtaposition of faces from another life, can talk and laugh and bicker and not hurt.

She makes it better. She makes it bearable. More than.

* * *

The others all have something to say about them. Ever since Tony first stepped foot on the same orange planet and was met with six familiar faces and an impossibility, they’ve been making jokes which range from harmless teasing to comments which result in a punch to the face — Antonia, surprisingly, when Steve had said that he hadn’t expected her to stoop so low.

They ignore them, for the most part — apart from the punch, which Antonia swears was a one-time thing, although Tony reserves the right to get one in for himself if the situation arises. They’ve spent their whole lives dealing with scorn from society, this is not much different.

Of course, the general public has no clue who Tony actually is, only the Avengers and their allies do, so it is somewhat different to face that type of scrutiny from people they know.

“Ignore them,” Antonia tells him again, when they walk back to their room in the Compound having left most of the others behind in the common area. Tony can still feel the eyes on him.

“It’s annoying. It’s been months, aren’t there more interesting things to get their attention? Should we advertise for another alien invasion?”

“The last one was more than enough to last me a lifetime, thank you very much.” Tony sends her a look which has her looking contrite in response. “I know, two lifetimes for you. But my point remains. Just ignore them, they’ll get bored eventually.”

Tony flops onto the bed, muscles aching with frustration.

“I know. It’s just… It’s been years, you know? Since I’ve had to deal with this type of thing. About my relationships, I mean, not the rest of my life choices, obviously.”

She strips languidly, clothes getting tossed carelessly on the chair Tony himself used to have for that specific purpose. He watches her, eyes lingering on the curve of her breasts, the hourglass shape of her hips.

“The privileges of being a man,” she says, and Tony lifts his eyes back up to catch the scorn in her face. “Even when I was with Steve there were still things people felt they needed to say.” Her voice takes on a fake, mocking quality. “Oh, when are you getting married? When are you having children? Do you think this is really the proper lifestyle to be in a successful relationship? What about when you have children, will you still be Iron Woman? Don’t you think you should tone it down a bit so Steve doesn’t feel like you’re questioning his leadership?”

Her lips curl in a snarl, the perfect dichotomy to how slowly she takes off her underwear. She’s not even putting on a show for him, she’s just become the type of person who refuses to let her anger affect her actions.

Tony wishes he were a little bit more like her, in that regard.

He opens his arms in invitation, feels his heart slow to a steady rhythm when she curls in, naked skin over his suit. He should fix that, soon probably, but right now he’s too comfortable to move.

“I would totally trade places with you if I could,” he says. Then, hiding a smile in her hair, “I’ve always wondered what it was like to be a girl. What’s it like having boobs?”

“Heavy, sweaty, and bouncy,” she says, tone completely solemn.

Tony cracks up, laughing into her hair, breathing in the smell of coconut from her shampoo.

Different, his brain says. Home, his heart replies.

“I suppose I should be grateful, then.”

“And for patriarchy doing you a solid, too.”

“Fuck the patriarchy,” Tony says with feeling, and is rewarded by a warm peal of laughter and then a very thorough kiss.

She pulls back, lingers over him, hair coming down around her face and tickling him. He curls a strand around her ear, leaves his hand cupping her cheek. She presses a kiss to his palm, a soft smile on her lips.

“You’re really quite something, Anthony.”

“Ditto.”

* * *

Peter is a difficult subject for Tony.

His own Peter had been bubbly and nerdy and excited about everything and anything, and Tony misses him like he’s missing a part of himself. Tony was his mentor, his teacher — only _more_. Somewhere along the way, he became more. Peter became more to him.

This Peter is the same for Antonia, He sees it as bright as daylight. She lights up whenever anyone so much as mentions him, eyes going all soft and proud at the same time.

This Peter walks into the Compound and the first thing he does is run into Antonia’s arms, blabbering on about the new adventures of the day, from saving cats up trees to how many yellow punch buggies he saw on the drive over. There’s that old familiar awe in his eyes — his Iron Man, or Woman as is the case, admiration — and then there is the other, more subtle awe that Tony has only learned to observe because he’s become so very attuned to all of Peter’s expressions.

Peter loves her. Tony can see it plain as day, and she loves him right back. They’re family.

His heart aches so deeply that most days he has to walk away, hand clutching at a long-gone arc reactor embedded in his chest.

He’s the same Peter, that’s what makes it at the same time better and worse.

The rest of them have subtle differences. Antonia not being Anthony and Thor being a woman have changed just a few things. Minimal but evident.

Natasha is much closer to Antonia, for starters. Closer than Pepper, actually, because there’s no lingering heartbreak there on either part. Both Bruce and Clint are visibly more protective over her. Thor is in some sort of relationship with Bruce — strange, at first, but now Tony can totally see it. Even with male Thor, actually. He’s decided he ships them.

The rest of the team besides the original six all have subtle changes in their dynamics, enough that Tony got used pretty quickly to thinking of them as _different_.

But Peter is the same. The only difference is that he sees his mentor as a mother- rather than father-figure.

Tony’s heart hurts. He thinks of his Peter and he knows that he’ll never see him again and he _hurts_. He left him. He’d never meant to leave any of them, but especially not Pepper and not _him_.

* * *

“You know,” Antonia says, voice seemingly casual to anyone that’s not him. “Kids usually have more than one parent. Two, three… All types of families in the world.”

Tony lets the bleeding edge suit he’s been working on — newer, stronger, sleeker — spread over him in seconds before flying off into the unknown and leaving her behind without a word.

He’s not even a little bit sorry.

* * *

His new suit is different. Has to be different. It’s weird enough that there are two incredibly similar nanotech suits which can fly and have arc reactors attached to their breastplate.

Tony likes the new color-scheme, he supposes, but he misses his colors. He can be the bigger guy and cede on that if it means he still gets to fly around, though, even if it is in gold and black now. He’s on her turf, after all, it’s only fair.

The public takes it better than he’d expected, although, honestly, he hadn’t considered that they might be so freaked out with another alien threat that they would welcome just about any new superhero into the park. The UN Accords Council is a different matter, but they too can see the benefit of another strong fighter, even if they don’t know just how familiar such a fighter is.

All in all, it suits Tony just fine to take a step back from the spotlight and fade into the shadows for once. Weird considering he’s _Tony Stark_ , but there it is. Old age at its finest. He’d been considering retiring for a while now, Pepper even more insistent than usual, but there was always something to put it off.

Antonia hasn’t had that same pressure, it seems, but he can still see the weariness in her after a long, hard fight, how much it weighs on her to be responsible for so much.

“We could take turns,” he suggests, teasing until the words come out of his mouth and he realizes just how much he’s _not_.

“What? You’re suddenly gonna grow nano boobs and call yourself Iron Woman?”

He flicks a bolt at her. It lands pitifully only halfway across the worktable and it ends with him sucking his finger because that fucking hurt. Her expression, very uncalled-for-like, lets him know what she thinks of this particular male version of herself and he does not appreciate it one bit.

“No. Asshole.” He narrows his eyes at her but she merely gives him an amused look. And fuck him, but she looks damn good doing it. “Just that we could handle it in turns, no need for me to pretend to be you, although I would definitely rock it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Exactly,” Tony says breezily, willfully ignoring her tone. “Think of it as pre-retirement training.”

She bristles, eyes already blazing in a way that lets Tony know he’s already lost today’s round.

“I don’t need to _retire_ ,” she says, twisting her lips around the word like it’s that fermented fish Tony was dared to eat once on a trip to Sweden. “Some of us are still quite youthful and spry, thank you very much. Men are just weaker, obviously, even male versions of myself.”

She sniffs superiorly and Tony decides that some topics are best left for dealing out in small, sparse doses.

* * *

“Hey, Mr. Stark.”

Tony barely has the time to turn towards that painfully familiar voice, heart constricting in his chest, before he’s assaulted with the full impact of Peter Parker, blindingly bright grin in place.

“Ms. Stark says you have a Peter too? In your world? Is that really true? Is he really like me? Or is he a she?” His eyes widen, fascination and excitement glaring from every line of his face. “Oh my god, is there a Spider-Girl? Spider-Woman? Definitely Spider-Woman, that sounds way better. More mature. So, is there? Oh, oh, what about Ned and MJ? And May? Is she still Aunt May or is it like, Uncle Marcus or something? Ooh, does that make Uncle Ben gay or was he a she? Oh, and what about—”

“Yeah, that’s enough in one go, kid, just take a deep breath for me, you’re about to choke on your own word vomit,” Tony tells him, fond smile in place before he even has time to process. His heart has calmed down too, miraculously.

Weird, no? He’d been avoiding Peter for so long but now that he actually allows himself to get swept away in his bubbly personality and general excitement for life, it’s as if a balm is being carefully applied to the open wound on his heart.

Peter blushes, dips his head down in embarrassment. Tony ruffles his hair before he fully processes what he’s doing and then he self-consciously retracts his hand, sticks both of them in his pockets, and leans back against the kitchen counter where he’d been preparing a smoothie before he got ambushed.

He’ll make Antonia pay later, he distractedly thinks. She’ll probably enjoy the punishment, though, seeing as it’ll most certainly consist of his tongue in pleasant places.

“Let’s see. You’re not a girl, at least not in my universe, I’m sure there’s bound to be a fast-talking, dorky bundle of energy with pigtails swinging around in some universe.”

Peter shoots him an unimpressed look which Tony cheerfully ignores while at the same time cherishing it for the gift it is — Peter comfortable with him in a way he really had no expectations of ever happening.

“What else. Ted and PJ are still the same suit-hacking social activists, Aunt May is definitely still Aunt Hottie, and no, she wasn’t in a lesbian relationship with your Uncle Ben.”

“Shame.”

Tony smirks. “Sure. But yeah, everything else is pretty much the same. Minus, you know, me. Oh, and Thor. We have guy-Thor.”

Peter’s eyes widen comically. “Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. Talk about a fine specimen. In any gender.” Tony raises his hand up high. “Tall. Like, really tall. Taller than Steve. And those muscles, whew.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Peter blinks ridiculously fast, then shakes his head in a comical impression of a dog, hair sticking out in every direction. Tony lets out an amused chuckle at the sight and Peter grins sheepishly.

“Sounds pretty cool, your universe.”

“Yeah. I guess it is.”

“A bit lacking on female representation, though, isn’t it? Cause if there’s you and then super hot guy-Thor—”

“Hey, I’m hot too,” Tony protests half-heartedly.

Peter makes a face, says, “Gross,” and then flips a dismissive hand in the air. “Then that means it’s only Natasha and Wanda, right? That’s lame, dude.”

Tony cocks an eyebrow at him, arms crossed across his chest. “Dude, is it? Is this how you talk to Ant?”

Peter slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes bright and wide and full of guilt. He shakes his head quickly, cheeks burning bright pink.

Tony laughs good-naturedly, winks at him so Peter knows he wasn’t serious.

“Relax, kid. You’ve got a point, though. We did meet a few newer people, you know? Maybe they’ve joined the team after I left. There was this one girl who…”

Tony keeps talking, telling Peter all about his world — most things remarkably similar to here — but Peter’s eyes never lose that awe-struck enthusiasm and, somehow, Tony spends the rest of the day with Peter.

For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t hurt.

* * *

“I owe you some revenge.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Definitely. I saw your scheming paws all over this afternoon’s shenanigans from a mile away.”

She smirks, wolfish and utterly indecent, spreads herself on the bed in all her naked glory.

“Come on, then. Time to pay me back.”

Tony does, only it really does involve a lot more moans of pleasure rather than pain. It’s alright, though. Fair is fair.

* * *

“What do you think would’ve happened if you’d stayed?”

“Are we assuming we win against Thanos or is this a nightmare future scenario where he kills half the universe like he said he would?”

“Either, both.”

“You’re not helpful.” Tony flicks her nose just because he loves the faux outraged look on her face whenever he does something like that, and then grins smugly at the sight. “I dunno. Probably try for a kid with Pep, biological clock was ticking and whatnot, so. I don’t know that we would’ve, but…”

He trails off, remnants of pain for a future lost swirling around his chest. It doesn’t hurt as much, not when he’s found a miracle to keep him afloat, but he thinks there might always be a lingering ache in his soul.

Her eyes are far too understanding, glimmering with a range of emotions that should make him squirm and look away — he remembers announcing often how allergic he was to feelings — and yet it doesn’t.

She’s his other half. Quite literally. The other side of the coin, they share the same soul, if there is such a thing. There’s no need to hide — there’s no _desire_ to hide.

“I would’ve been happy, I think,” he says into the waiting silence, fingers coming to play with her hair, twirling her curls through his knuckles. “Maybe a house in the lake, I’d be the stay-at-home dad, Pep would still rock it as CEO. Maybe we’d get a few animals. An alpaca, or something.”

“Pepper’s allergic to dogs.”

“And cats are little demons with furry tails.”

She chuckles, eyes crinkling in the corner with mirth. There’s a wistfulness there too — for both of them, he thinks. It could’ve been her, too, in another world. Maybe there is one where things are even more different and they find their way into that picture.

It sounds nice, in his mind’s eye. Peaceful.

“But this is nice, too,” he says.

She doesn’t need to have heard his thoughts before to catch his meaning. Easy, he thinks. Same.

There’s a small smile growing on her lips, just the corners at first, then spreading and softening at the same time. Her eyes match it, a gentleness to them which Tony is still getting used to seeing in such familiar eyes.

“We could get a lake house. And an alpaca, too. Peter would get a kick out of it.”

There’s a warmth in his chest, growing and growing until it feels a lot like a huge pressure threatening to snap his ribs. It doesn’t, though, and she leans in to press the softest of kisses to his lips before resting her forehead on his and closing her eyes, eyelashes tickling him in the process.

“You could have it, Tony. All of it.” Then, softer, almost a whisper, “You deserve it.”

He wraps his arms around her, lets his own eyes fall shut, feels the smell of coconut and vanilla wafting around him, the heat radiating from her body.

“You deserve it too,” he says, just as quietly, just as tender. Just as loving. “You’re amazing, Ant. You deserve the world.”

He feels her smile against his lips, small but real, her breath caressing his skin.

“Ditto.”


End file.
